Summary:

The Wizarding War robbed her of her life and her friends, ruining what is yet to come. Through a deal made with Death, Hilda Potter is reborn as a ninja for Konoha. But the tides of war are on the horizon. Itachi/Fem!Harry

Another new story. Whether or not it will be continued from here and taken further will be up to my inspiration and any new ideas, and to you, my readers. The Kuroko no Basuke story set in the Noragami universe I'm talking about will be up latest by next week if I can manage it.

Note: The Harry Potter universe will not be taking much of a role in here, and before anyone ask me, no, Hilda or whatever Harry Potter characters that I decide will appear here will not, have not, and will never use magic again once they're reborn.

Pairings: Itachi/Yuri. Ren/Hinami. Possible Sasuke/Noriko.

Warnings: AU Universe. OOC. Gender swap. Minor character bashing. Good Danzo.

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter and Naruto and any of the characters, but the OC characters belongs to me

Chapter One: Death

Nineteen-year-old Hilda Potter doesn't know just when was it when she had ran out of tears.

She is so damned sick and tired of everything—of life in general.

She now had a good idea why her aunt Petunia hates the wizards and witches so much, and why she had detested the idea that both Lily and Hilda were witches. After all, if she is going to lose her own loved ones to a world that she doesn't even understand, she'll rather not get too attached to them.

Petunia's words to Hilda before she'd left with the Order for protection when the war had broken out still haunted Hilda from time to time—especially during the year when she had been hunting the Horcruxes.

You might have lost your mother sixteen years ago, but remember, Hilda, Lily is my sister. You didn't just lose your mother that day. I lost my sister too.

The war against Voldemort had ended two years ago, but at a terrible price. Hermione and Ron have died during the war, dying side-by-side with each other, with content smiles on their faces, knowing that they'd helped to take down Voldemort's last Horcrux and leaving it to their best friend to end the existence of the most dangerous Dark Lord of the last century.

So did Tonks and Remus, thus leaving their barely year old son in the guardianship of a grieving Andromeda Tonks who had also lost her husband barely six months ago.

And even with the war over, the wizarding community and the Ministry still wouldn't leave Hilda alone despite requests from both Hilda and Kingsley, the new Minister to do so. And to make matters worse, Rita Skeeter had picked up her poison pen once more, churning out article after article, basically citing Hilda as the next coming of the Dark Lord. Even though Andromeda had tried her best to protect Hilda, it had still been too much for her, and she was nearly driven insane by everything.

Fearful for her sanity and her safety, Kingsley had managed to smuggle Hilda into the muggle world, as not even they both knew whom they could trust, even amongst the members of the Order. The only one whom they knew would never harm Hilda had just been Andromeda.

Hilda rubbed at her eyes, seated by the side of the large lake that she is staring out at, with the stars being reflected onto the surface of the water.

"…Hermione. Ron. Severus. Mom. Dad… Tonks. Remus. Sirius… Is this the world that you've died for—sacrificed for?" Hilda whispered, her voice cracking up as she tried to choke back her sobs. "I'm… I'm so tired." She whispered, wrapping her thin arms around her equally thin legs. How long has it been since she'd gone without food? When was the last time when she had slept or even ate properly? Hilda doesn't know. And she doesn't care either. "I wish that I'd never known about the wizarding world if I knew that this would happen. Just… What did we sacrifice everything for? Is… Is Voldemort right in the end? Is this world…even worth saving?"

There is no answer, with the only sounds being the soft lapping of the waters of the lake against the sides.

Hilda rubbed at her eyes before digging out the familiar ruby red stone within her pocket, staring at it. The Resurrection Stone. One of the three Deathly Hallows that had brought her this much trouble to begin with.

Master of Death.

"I call upon you," Hilda whispered, turning the stone over in her hand three times, "Heed my call."

For several moments, all was silent.

"You call?"

Hilda didn't even flinch at the whispery eerie sounds of that familiar voice even as she turned to face a creature that seems to be a typical representation of the Grim Reaper from fairy tales—decked out in a black cloak similar to that of a Dementor's, only with the wicked looking scythe visible in its hands.

"You can grant wishes, can't you?" Hilda asked Death, her voice hoarse.

Death almost seem to sigh, as Hilda Potter—the current Master of Death had called upon him more than once ever since the war had ended, begging Death to give back her friends' lives. "I've told you before, my master, I cannot bring back lives that are already expired. It is not within my realm of interference—"

"Then how about taking a life?" Hilda interrupted, a steely glint visible in those cold green orbs that only had Death written in it. "It is within your realm of interference, right?"

Death raised its hooded head to look at his new master. Those eyes are already that of someone who had totally given up on living. But as the new Master of Death, dying is a concept that is impossible.

"…My master, do you wish to die?" The God of Death whispered, feeling pity for his master. He who feels no emotions has been attached and attuned to his current master's soul after centuries with no direct descendant from the Peverell line being able to claim the title as the Master of Death. And yet, the first one after centuries had gone through so much hardship and tortures that even make the God of Death feel that it might have been a kinder fate for her to join those in the Afterlife.

"Taking a life… That is within your area of interference, right?" Hilda asked again, ignoring Death's question. "I'm tired. I'm so tired. Please… This life… It is a fate worse than Death. I don't want to live knowing that I'm all alone."

Death's non-existent heart went out to his master.

"…My master, you've barely lived your life," he said reluctantly. "You don't know or experienced love yet. You're young—too young. While yes, it is indeed within my area of interference, I don't want to let you die just yet."

"Please!"

"However, there is another gift that I can offer you that is still within my area of interference." Death continued as if Hilda hasn't spoken, "Restart your life. Begin with a clean slate."

Hilda frowned. "What are you talking about?" she asked. "If it's time travel, no way in Hell. Not with how they're treating me. I'm starting to think that Voldemort has the right idea—that this world isn't worth saving any longer."

"…How about that in a different world, a different time, a different dimension?" Death asked, and Hilda was silenced immediately, giving Death her full attention. "You won't be Witch, Wizard, Sorcerer or even Warlock. You will still be Warrior and Protector, yet still be tangled with Death. You will gain something which you'd longed for all your life—a family's love. But you will still lose them in the end. You will know a lover's touch, a love that defies all common sense—for your sake, he will willingly walk over fire, but you will still lose him, yet you will gain it back if you wish it, for such is your Power, and your Will of Fire. You will know no limits. You will have no Shackles. Nothing will bind you if you wish it, for such is your nature. But my master, know this, as you know by now—more than anyone else, power comes at a price. And so do wishes." Death whispered, knowing that now is the time to fulfil the contract that his master's dear friends have made with him upon their deaths, and he'd gone to reclaim their souls.

"Name your price." Hilda responded.

"Your identity." Death replied, much to Hilda's surprise. "You will lose your very identity of being Hilda Potter—last living descendant of the main Peverell line. All your memories of being a Witch—everything that had ever made you Hilda Potter—you will lose it all. You will lose your magic, yet possibly gain more power than what you had now. However, you will also know pain and suffering unlike any other. Yet the friends and comrades that you will make—they will never betray you for it is not in their honour. Your family—your clan will still be marked with the Touch of Death, for such is their Destiny and Fate, and not even I could change it. For such are the rules binding the gods, and the laws of the universe. With that still, will you still agree to this?"

Hilda was hesitant in the beginning. Lose her very identity? And then again, what has she got to lose anyway? Who is she anyway? Who or what she is now, hasn't she been moulded to be who she is right from the very beginning? Being created as a mere weapon to destroy the Dark Lord?

Hilda met Death in the eye and nodded determinedly.

Death nodded. "Very well, my master. Go. And may the fortunes smile on you," he whispered before a flash of white light enveloped Hilda, and she then vanished. Death waved one of his sleeves, and semi-transparent figures of a redheaded male and a brunette female appeared before him, smiling grimly at Death.

"We thank you for this." The female whispered. "We feared that things would come to this one day. Now, we can fulfil our part of the bargain."

"Are you sure?" Death questioned. How ironic. He shouldn't be the one questioning the humans' decisions. For eons, he had granted wishes—those within his realm of interference at least. Those whose wishes embarked amongst the lines of life and death. "The price that you will give up is the same as my master. Your identities."

"We know. We're prepared for this." The redheaded male smiled sadly. "I've let my best friend down more times than I care to remember. Yet, her faith in me had never wavered. She had always trusted me. I don't deserve a friend like her. I… I want to be the one protecting her now, instead of the other way around. Hilda has done enough. And if by fulfilling our contract and our wish, the wizarding world as we know it will be wiped out, then so be it. It's what they deserved after turning on Hilda the way they did."

"We might not remember her and know her, and she might not remember us and know us, but it's okay." The brunette smiled sadly. "Our hearts are still connected. We will still end up meeting. For such are Fate, Destiny and Death."

Death nodded. "Very well. I'll grant your wish. The price…will be paid in full by the Wizarding World," he responded. "Go." Like earlier, similar white lights enveloped the two before they vanished. Death then looked at the surface of the lake. "Go. Saito Hinami. Nara Ren. Uchiha Yuri, my Master, my Death's Advocate. It shall be as you wish it."

A/N: I know that it's pretty damn confusing, and I'm pretty sure that I read a story that is a reincarnated Harry Potter story too some years ago that I can't remember the name of! This idea is somewhat inspired from that story, but from here on, all ideas are purely original!

Anyway, to those who could guess who the two that Death is talking to will get a cookie! I hope that you like this chapter and story, and please read and review! Reviews give me inspiration to update!